


Skintight Jeans

by alba17



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-17
Updated: 2012-11-17
Packaged: 2017-11-18 20:33:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/565004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alba17/pseuds/alba17
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zayn's finally got what he's wanted for so long.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Skintight Jeans

**Author's Note:**

> Written for junkshop_disco as part of the Halloween Treat or Treat meme.

Zayn’s right in the middle of worshiping those impossibly long legs, the trousers that are practically begging to be pulled down - they’re barely hanging on Harry’s slim hips - and he intones a grateful prayer to whatever god is responsible for bringing about this moment. He never thought he’d be here, hands splayed on Harry Styles’ thighs, nuzzling up the inside of his leg, not so subtly inching toward the apex where those skintight jeans clearly reveal what looks like a prodigious erection.

For ages, it had been just Louis, Louis, Louis, as far as Harry was concerned, and then there was Eleanor and then when they got back home from the States, it was no more Louis, Louis, Louis. It was Harry buggering off, acting weird with Nick and his ridiculous friends, and all Zayn wanted to do was stay at home and stare at his ceiling, smoking and blasting his mind with music at the highest volume possible. His mum kept trying to drag him out - he’d been on tour so long, she complained, they wanted to see him. But he couldn’t talk to her or his sisters, obviously; they’d never understand and they’d ask, ‘But what about Perrie?’ So he just stayed in his room acting like a lovesick teenage girl. Well, at least the lovesick teenager part was right.

He let Perrie drag him out because part of him really did love her. But somehow it was never what he really wanted. To his utter mortification, that was flirty brown curls and a broad flat chest tapering down to slender hips, a smile as wide as an ocean liner and a throaty voice that sent whispers of lightning up his spine.

Now finally, here he was with that voice keening and begging as Zayn slowly peeled off Harry’s jeans and followed up with his tongue, squeezed the arse that had been teasing him for so long, peaking out from those low-hanging trousers.

For the moment at least, it was all his.


End file.
